


She's the Man(ager)

by wingsofanillyrian



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: ACOTAR - Freeform, ACOWAR, Employee!Cassian, F/M, Modern AU, acomaf, boss/employee, manager!Nesta
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-27
Updated: 2018-03-27
Packaged: 2019-04-13 18:49:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14118645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wingsofanillyrian/pseuds/wingsofanillyrian
Summary: Nesta is an executive at a financial firm. Cassian is a regular employee with a huge crush on his boss.





	She's the Man(ager)

Nesta Archeron glared at her employee, waving the report angrily in his face. “This doesn’t help me, Darrel! I said I need the full analytics report, not just the summary. Pull this kind of shit again, and you’re gone.” She slapped the report on his keyboard, stalking back to her office and slamming the door.

As the manager at an accounting firm, Nesta was one of the few that actually got a real office. The rest of us were cursed to our cubicles, where you couldn’t even talk to your buddies about your plans for Friday night without some idiot deciding it was okay for them to invite themselves along.

She paced in front her window, yelling into the phone. She threw up her hands, clearly exasperated with the person on the other end. Her chest was heaving, and her pacing caused a few strands of honey blonde hair to loosen from her braid.

“Dude, just  _talk_ to her.” Azriel’s voice broke my stare, and I blinked at him. Easy for him to say. We had been best friends for years, and he had always been the one that had ladies clawing at each other for the chance to date him. He was the quiet, mysterious one, and I was the loud obnoxious annoying with a good body.

That didn’t get me much, however. Underneath my façade of bravado and charm, I could never commit to a real relationship. I always ended up pushing people away and breaking women’s hearts.

“Talk to her? I can’t. What would I even say? ‘Hey I know you’re my boss and it’s inappropriate, but I think you’re hot. Let’s go out?’” I shook my head, refilling my coffee. “I don’t even know a single thing about her.”

Azriel shrugged, leaning against the countertop. “She likes reading. Talk to her about that.”

“And you know that  _how?_ ” I quipped, adding a dash of milk to my mug.

“I have my ways,” he said, grinning in a way that had me questioning whether I wanted to know what those “ways” were.

“Oookay, I’ll talk to her about…. Books _._ ” Azriel smirked, clapping me on the shoulder before heading back to his cubicle. I glared after him, taking an angry sip of my coffee. The fresh brew burned my tongue causing me to curse and spill down the front of my shirt.

I groaned, scrambling to the sink for a paper towel. Of  _course_ I had to be wearing white on the day I was planning to talk to her. Now it was going to stain, and I was going to look like a complete oaf. What was it Rhys’s mom had taught me? Rub a stain, not dab at it? Or was it dab and not-

“Looks like you’re having quite the existential crisis.” I froze in place at the familiar voice, dread curdling in my gut. I turned from the sink and was greeted by her blue grey eyes.

“I uh, spilled my coffee.” I stammered, gesturing to the stain. She rolled her eyes, putting her hands on her hips.

“Men,” she sighed, snatching the paper towel from my hand and reaching under the sink for the soap. She put a drop on the towel, shoving it back into my hand.

“That’ll help get the worst of it out, for now. I’d suggest washing it right away when you get home.” Her heels clacked against the tiled floor, the sound amplified in the small kitchen. She pulled her lunch from the fridge and sat at the table, clearly dismissing my presence.

I smiled tightly, dabbing at my front. “Thanks. So I uh, I heard you read?” She arched a slender brow and set down her sandwich.

“Yes, I can read. It _is_  a basic life skill.” Her tone was slightly amused, but not in a good way. In a way that told me just how dumb she thought I must be.

“I meant that I heard you like reading.” I grappled for the words, trying to recover the situation. “In your free time. You like novels.”

“I do,” she said, eyes narrowing as she looked me up and down. Her attention snagged on my chest, where the wet shirt clung to my darkened skin. I glanced down, noticing that the dark whorls of my tattoos were visible through the translucent material. It would seem she appreciated my ink. I grinned, tucking that bit of information away for later.

She frowned, eyes snapping back up to mine. “What was your name again?”

My small smile faltered. Oh Gods, she didn’t remember who I was. I’d worked with her for two years and created the monthly progress reports for her, but she didn’t remember me.

“I’m Cassian,” I told her, sticking my hand out across the table. She nodded in recognition,

“Oh, right. I’m Nesta.” My heart leapt in my chest as she shook my hand.

“I know,” I said, sitting down opposite her. She hummed noncommittally, resuming her lunch. I sat there, sipping at my coffee as the awkward silence hung between us. After a few minutes, I couldn’t take it anymore.

“Would you like to go on a date?” I blurted, immediately regretting my forwardness, but too stubborn to back down. She blinked in surprise, chewing slowly before she swallowed.

“With… You?” She studied me once more, the weight of her eyes leaving me bare before her. It was as if her steely gaze could see through my nervousness and straight into the depths of my soul.

I nodded, running a hand through my hair. She considered a moment longer, then scribbled something on a napkin and folded it in half, sliding it across the table.

I sat rigidly as she stood, brushing the crumbs from her deep blue pencil skirt. Her eyes were unreadable as she turned on a heel and strutted back to her desk, not looking back once. I sighed, lost in the sway of her hips and her generous backside. When she turned the corner, I opened the note. Two lines of simple text, written in elegant script.

_414-555-9792_

_Call me._

**Author's Note:**

> To continue or not to continue... You tell me!


End file.
